


Across Time

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman, Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Friendship, M/M, One Shot, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Ramenman and Brocken Jr. watch their proteges, as they spend quality time together.





	Across Time

Ramenman smiled.

The arena was cold so early in the morning, with the open top casting long shadows. A small beam of light was visible over the opposite bleachers, where the edge of the building seemed to shimmer and move with the shifting reflections, and the scent of freshly fried foods drifted from the stands. The grunts and groans from the rings below filled every inch of the stadium, bringing back familiar memories and dreams. Ramenman shook his head.

Mantaro fought hard in the training session, but his form would evaporate any time a pretty face would cheer him on from the sidelines . . . Jacqueline caught his eye in particular, so that Jade was able to draw blood on several occasions, and each time he would return to the sparring match in earnest, only to be distracted afresh. It would be easy – with bleachers empty, lessons yet to officially start – to shout down words of encouragement. The promise of rewards usually worked to Mantaro’s advantage in past, and it could work now . . .

He leaned against the balcony, while Mantaro evaded a series of oncoming blows. The fists came too close for comfort, grazing his mask and smearing the blood that ran from his nose, and Meat slapped the canvas to scream out words of advice. Even after so many tournaments, they still had much to learn. The other teachers would soon arrive. It would be Robin that would chastise them, but Buffaloman to guide them. A voice interrupted his thoughts:

“You are still here watching them?”

Ramenman turned his head. Brockenman Jr. stood just to the side, with a warm smile that brought colour to his cheeks, and yet – even despite the lowered head and lowered hat – the lines were deeply etched about his face, showing his age more than any of their colleagues. A bag was carried casually over his shoulder, as if he were fresh from the plane, and his shirt clung to him with sweat, as he panted for breath and cricked his neck.

“Late for training again, I see,” teased Ramenman.

Brocken rolled his eyes, as he tossed his bag at Ramenman’s feet. He strolled over and stood beside him, with arms just grazing with the barest of touches, and shivers spread through Ramenman’s frame, as his nerves came alive with the small – yet intimate – contact. The smile widened. He turned back to watch Mantaro, even as his hand dropped forward over the balcony, and there it hung palm-upward with fingers spread. A low scoff escaped Brocken, but he took the hand without complaint. A squeeze showed his affection.

“It was the anniversary of the death of my father,” said Brocken. “I felt somewhat obliged to tend to his grave, but you must forgive me if I did not think it appropriate for you to come with me to pay my respects. I came back as soon as I was able. I even ran here from the airport to make it in time for the start of training, as I wanted so much to see your face.”

“Ah, yes,” chuckled Ramenman. “Is that why you did not face-time?”

“I do not trust technology and it is not the same.”

“No, it is not the same.” Ramenman stroked at his hand. “I could not feel your warmth, just as I could not feel the softness of your skin, and I could not sleep to the sound of your breathing, knowing you were warm and present beside me . . . I missed you, Brocken.”

A chaste kiss was pressed to Brocken’s cheek. It would not be visible from the distance to the rings, although anyone passing on their level would not mistake the action, and knowing that brought a soft blush to Ramenman’s cheeks, as he slowly pulled back. He made it a few inches, before callused fingers grabbed at his chin. Brocken jerked his head back. The kiss that followed was less than chaste . . . rough lips forced apart his own, as a tongue slid its way inside to explore every inch of his mouth . . . Ramenman let loose a low gasp.

It took all his strength to move away his mouth, as he lightly pressed at the firm and muscular chest that still withheld its strength and shape after all this time. Brocken laughed, before stealing a quick peck to his lips, and returned to leaning against the railing, as their hands remained clasped between them. Ramenman subtly squeezed his legs together and angled his lower body away, while Brocken nudged him with his hips and knocked him back a step.

“And you ignore the question,” said Brocken.

Ramenman placed his free hand over Brocken’s. The gentle touch brought back memories of not long after they met . . . _wheelchair bound, a man seeking to make amends, kindness coming from another deemed incapable . . . _Ramenman leaned closer to Brocken. They were pressed shoulder to shoulder and side to side, where the scent of sweat merged with that of hastily thrown on cologne. It was a strange mixture of consideration with a lack of effort. A low hum escaped Ramenman, as his eyes roamed over the ring below in the arena.

“I have never had a son,” said Ramenman. “It has never been a regret, but sometimes I look to Mantaro and do regret not being there for him more. I was his tutor for such a short time, but he has made the greatest impact on my life than any other, and I find myself at times watching over him as he grows into a young man. I feel . . . pride.”

“_Ja_, I know what you mean. I have always seen Jade as a son, enough that I gave him a prized heirloom and trained him when I would train no other, and he gave me hope when I was on the verge of death . . . purpose . . . the only other time I have felt such love is with you, but that is not the same. My love for you is selfish, as I desire you and crave you, but my love for him is selfless . . . I would die for that boy, if he ever required my death.”

“There is still time for us, should you wish for a son.” Ramenman smiled. “You are aware that _chojin_ have a long lifespan, and King Mayumi himself has lived to see a century pass. I believe you would be a good father. You were the perfect father to Jade, as such you could be the perfect father to any child we chose to bear or adopt. It is an option.”

_Silence_. The soft breaths of Brocken merged with the shouts and jeers from below, where Jade finally gained the upper-hand and pinned Mantaro to the mat, and – as Kid counted the seconds – both men stood tense and motionless. Every beat of his heart grew faster and faster, while his hand held tighter and tighter . . . _three, four _. . . Ramenman audibly swallowed . . . _five!_ . . . Ramenman cursed in his native tongue, as Brocken cried out _‘mein Sohn’_. Brocken nudged him once more with a wink, before throwing an arm around him. He laughed:

“So long as I have you, that is enough.”

Ramenman folded his arms with a pout. Mantaro struggled to stand, even as Jade offered him a hand, and yet his loss was hardly a loss at all, as both boys were happy and healthy, and beside him was the only person in his life that he could love to completion. Brocken was his other half, bringing with him such love and adoration that nothing could compete, and – with tears in his eyes – he took that hand once more and squeezed tight.

The sun rose high above them. The cheers rang out from the arena.

Together, they watched their boys down below.


End file.
